


Extra Large Order

by OCWotchny



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Fluff, Liquorship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 06:29:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10237934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OCWotchny/pseuds/OCWotchny
Summary: It's always Lena's fault— Morgan can't even order a pizza without her causing trouble.All Jack wanted was an easy job.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a text post from tungle dot hell. I'd source it but it's been YEARS and lord if I know where it is.
> 
> As usual, enjoy.

It started, of course with Lena being hungry. 

“Morgan,  _ please _ ,” she begs, throwing herself over the back of the couch. She lets out a loud groan next to his ear, and he stops typing to shove her face away. 

“Leave me  _ be _ ,” he huffs, eyes trailing her as she flips over the back onto the cushions. Lena grunts, and rolls onto her stomach to prop her head on her fists. A glare is cast up at the professor, and he flicks her between the eyes.

“Oi--! I’m  _ starving _ , and you won’t cook for me!” She pouts. “Ain’t you supposed to be me mum here? I thought you were gonna cook for me!”

Morgan sucks in a breath and concedes her point. He did say that he’d keep her fed while she stayed here… But this work is due the next day. He doesn’t have time to cook anything, and there’s nothing boxed he can whip up in a few minutes, either. 

“... How about a compromise?” he offers, turning his head towards Lena with a wry smile. “I have to get these papers in by tomorrow, so I’ll order you a pizza. It isn’t my cooking, but… Delivery is nice every now and again, right?”

Lena thinks this over for a second. She thinks of the ins and outs, looks for a way that she loses in this deal… And doesn’t find anything.

“Deal!” she says, and bounces off of the couch to go and grab Morgan’s wallet. He chuckles, and pulls up the website in a new tab.

He puts in the usual; a large pepperoni, stuffed crust, and an order of breadsticks. Reading over the order one last time, he eyes a text box towards the bottom and looks over his shoulder.

“Lena! Anything specific you want me to ask for?” Silence follows for a few seconds, and then Lena calls back.

“Ask for the cutest delivery boy they got!” She yells.

Morgan wrinkles his nose, knitting his brows together in confusion. “You don’t even  _ like _ boys!” he yells, and the pilot laughs in response.

“Do it anyways! I wanna see who they’ll send!”

He stares into the empty hallway leading to his room for a few seconds… Then shrugs and figures: What’s the harm? With the amount they charge him for delivery, he might as well ask for an underwear model to bring it to his door.

* * *

“Oi, Morrison!” A woman calls, cupping one of her hands around her mouth so she’s heard over the clutter of the restaurant. The older man in question looks up from where he’d been mopping with a hum, raising an eyebrow and leaning against the pole in his hands.

“We have an order coming up, and you’re the only one who can drive that’s here. Mind taking it out for me?”

Jack Morrison snorts at this, arching an eyebrow in surprise. He typically didn’t handle deliveries; when he’d first got the job here three weeks ago, his manager had made it very clear that this would be the case. With the two scars running up his face, his white fading hair, and his large, muscular frame, customers would get scared if they opened the door with him standing there. ‘You look like the kind of guy who doesn’t care to work with people much, either,’ she had said, and he’d been inclined to agree. He didn’t mind working in the back, anyways; he made the pizzas, handled shipments of supplies, and cleaned up the area. It wasn’t too bad.

Still… The late-night spring air is nice, and he wouldn’t object to the chance to get out of the building. The back tends to be a little cramped, anyways.

“Sure,” he responds. “I’ll get right on it.”

Fifteen minutes later, and he’s standing in front of the door of one of the nicer apartments in town. His face is passive, though he’d been told that his resting expression came off as mean. Should he smile? No harm in that, right? Except that felt weird, so he tightens his lips into a frown as though he’s trying to figure out just how facial expressions work. What should he--?

The door opens very suddenly, snapping him out of his thoughts. He jerks his head up in surprise to lock eyes with… A very, very pretty man.

He’s short, only coming up to Jack’s chest. His skin is smooth and tan, with a slim figure covered by a loose t-shirt that exposes his arms, leading Jack to believe that he’s young… Though when he takes in the stranger’s eyes, he pulls that statement back. In the corners, just barely visible in the light of the hallway, are crows’ feet that give away the man’s age. Still, he’s… Quite the looker, and as Jack stares into his customer’s eyes (which are bright and big and green and holy  _ shit _ do they shine), he nearly forgets that he’s there with a job to do.

“... Ahem. You’re the, uh-- Large pepperoni and breadsticks?” No response, save for a small nod. Jack narrows his eyes and reads over the receipt, blinking a few times in confusion at a chunk of text he hadn’t seen.

“Er… Sorry they didn’t send a, uh,” he stutters, clearing his throat again. Why is he still staring at him like that? “... Cute boy. I’m all they had left tonight.” He offers a small grin in apology, and reaches into the bag slung over his shoulders to pull out a box. He opens it to check the contents, and holds it out to the smaller man.

“Here’s your food,” he says, yet the man doesn’t move. They lock eyes again, and Jack frowns. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of Jack’s face since he looked up at him. Is his face  _ really _ that scary…?

No, that isn’t fear in this man’s eyes. It’s something else… He nudges the man’s chest with the box, a silent way of repeating what he just said. The touch snaps the customer out of his stupor, and Jack can  _ just _ make out a blush on his cheeks before the man whips his body around and rushes back into his house, slamming the door shut in Jack’s face.

“... Well, damn.”

* * *

 

Morgan slumps against the wall next to his door as soon as he makes it back inside.

“Did ya get the food?!” Lena yells, poking her head out of the entrance to the kitchen. She scowls when she sees the state he’s in, and comes over to see what the problem is.

“... Oi, you alright there? Ya look like you’ve seen a ghost!” She jokes, and Morgan shakes his head. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of cash, thrusting it into Lena’s hand.

“I… I think you need to pay for the pizza,” he says, and Lena frowns again. Taking his hand the money, she hoists him up and reaches for the doorknob.

“Oh, please,” she chastises, pulling him with her as she turns the knob. “It can’t be that bad!”

“Lena,  _ don’t _ \--” he starts, but she’s already opening the door again, and he’s powerless to pull away from her.

“Come on, mum! You’re an adult, you can--!” The pilot nearly bumps into a very large person, cutting her off. She looks up at the deliveryman and frowns, looking at her guardian to ask what the hell is issue is… And then she sees his face.

She looks back up at the man(who seemed a little worried and a lot confused), she looks over at Morgan(who is trying not to look at anything except for the wall to his left), then back at the man again… And gets the absolute worst grin on her face.

“Sorry!” She says, beaming up at the deliveryman. “He has a hard time talking to hot men--” She’s cut off from an abrupt smack to her shoulder, accented by a loud cry of  _ ‘Lena!’ _ from a very flustered Morgan. Lena cackles, shoving him back in return and focusing on the man holding her food again.

He has an… Interesting expression on his face right now. Somewhere between smug and surprised, and Lena can’t tell which one is more apparent. Before either of them can say anything however, Morgan is stamping forward and shoving the money into the other man’s chest, holding his free arm out for the food.

“Can I just have my damn pizza?!” He barks, and the delivery man snickers as he obliges and hands it over. As soon as they’re in his hold, he tears ass for his home once more and slams the door in frustration.

It’s quiet between Lena and the stranger, before he clears his throat and grins down at the girl.

“... Will that be all?” He asks, and Lena nods with a grin of her own. 

“Yep, that’s good-- er--” She squints her eyes at his chest, then goes back to grinning after reading his nametag. “-- Jack! Ya did great. Have a good night!”

She turns to go back inside, and Jack nearly leaves as well… Before calling her back on a whim, and sending a prayer up to heaven that this goes well.

“Wait! You need your receipt. Let me just…” He searches his pockets for a pen, then scribbles something on the paper before handing it over. Lena raises a brow, but takes it anyways. She gives it a glance to read what he’d scratched down, and snorts with a shake of her head.

“Nice one, mate-- I’ll see ya!” They both wave one last time, then Jack goes back to his car feeling lighter than he has in years.

Back in the house, Lena practically dances over to the couch with a slice of pizza in her hand, chewing on the first bite as she plops down next to her still-pouting mom. Neither one of them speak for a while, with Morgan busily clacking at his computer and Lena scrolling through her phone, until the pilot shoots up with an ‘Oh!’ and reaches into her pocket to pull out a scrap of paper.

“Here, love! He said to read it over and make sure the price checks out,” she says, handing it over. Morgan snorts and takes it, scanning over the numbers before getting to a bunch of pen on the bottom. He narrows his eyes and reads…

_ ‘Give me a call for something other than pizza sometime. xxx-xxxx - Jack Morrison’ _

“... God  _ dammit _ , Lena!” he yells, and all she can do in response is laugh.


End file.
